


Flying the Coop

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint hates Medical, Ficlet, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 05:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil helps Clint get out of Medical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flying the Coop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phae/gifts).



> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing with them.
> 
> For phae, who had to do unpleasant medical-ish things and requested a ficlet. First posted to tumblr [here](http://ralkana.tumblr.com/post/67173777401/dasmarchenleben-hello-fic-buddies-out-in-the).

 

The constant bustle of doctors and nurses coming in and out of Barton’s cubicle faded into the background as Phil focused on his paperwork and attempted to make some sort of report about the clusterfuck this op had become.

Clint’s voice caught Phil’s ear every once in a while, his resigned tone gradually becoming more and more clipped and tight with each nurse and each question. Phil glanced up, watching for a while, and he saw the way Barton’s face slowly changed. His weary expression grew more mutinous every second until he looked like nothing more than a miserable little boy, dwarfed by the paper gown in a way that shouldn’t have been possible for a man with his broad shoulders and well-muscled arms.

The sight tugged at something deep within Phil, and he completely ignored it, well-used to pushing down the maelstrom of emotions this man stirred up in him.

"Is all this necessary?" Phil interrupted, and the nurse glanced at him, wide-eyed and startled, clearly having completely forgotten he was there. "It seems to me that the questions you’re asking have more to do with Agent Barton’s distant medical history, rather than the minor injuries he’s here for today."

The nurse flushed, caught. “I… Well, Agent Barton is hardly ever in Medical, and we like to take the opportunity — “

"I’m not a medical professional, but I think Agent Barton’s time would currently be better spent resting. In a less… harried environment."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, the nurse nodded and flipped through her paperwork until she found the discharge forms. Barton eagerly reached for the pen, scrawling messily wherever she indicated. She left to process the forms, clearly annoyed at Phil’s intervention.

"Thanks, sir," Barton said with a quick grin as he slid off the bed. Phil carefully averted his eyes as the man dressed in his dusty and blood stained field gear, completely shameless about stripping down in front of his handler.

"I’m springing you on one condition, Barton. You’ll come back later this week and answer their questions."

Barton scowled. “Coulson — “

"Non-negotiable, Barton. Medical needs that information to make sure one of SHIELD’s top assets is in prime condition in the field."

Barton looked startled, as always, at the praise, and Phil swallowed the anger that bubbled up at the reminder of how few compliments this man had been given over the course of his rough life.

Nodding, Barton shoved his feet into his boots, leaving them half-untied, as was customary for him. Phil didn’t know how the man scaled buildings and darted across rooftops with his boots half off, but he did, somehow.

"Deal, sir."

Gathering his paperwork, Phil stood, following Barton out of the cubicle and through Medical. Once they were striding through the corridor, nodding at passing agents, Phil asked him, “If I release you to your quarters, will you actually rest, Barton?”

Phil was well aware that Barton spent hours in the gym and on the range after harrowing ops, exhausting himself far beyond what was healthy.

The man didn’t lie to Phil — hardly ever even evaded the truth, a measure of their friendship and the trust between them. Now, he looked shifty, and Phil stifled a sigh.

"You need rest, Barton. You can either get it in your quarters, or on my couch. Not the one in my office," he clarified.

Barton had opened his mouth to complain, and now he quickly shut it, staring at Phil.

"Your couch. In your apartment."

"Yes."

"You’ll be there, too."

"Yes."

Barton grinned slyly. “Can we watch cartoons?”

"Barton — "

"Come on, sir, you have a million DVD sets. You can’t tell me you don’t have any cartoons."

Phil eyed him blandly, and his grin grew.

"You at least have Captain America and the Howling Commandoes, you can’t tell me you don’t. Come on, please, Coulson…"

It was harder than usual to hide his smile with the way Barton was _beaming_ at him and wheedling like a five year old.

"We’ll see…" he murmured as he strode down the corridor, Barton chuckling beside him.

**END**


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